It's one of those days: almost 90 degrees, sunny, with a wind strong enough to keep the weather refreshing rather than stifling. The light is golden and liquid, the clouds are puffy. Why am I at work?

As a child, I never got the urge to cut class, skip school, take a Ferris Bueller day off. I secretly admired those who did. But I never quite said "Screw it, I'm outta here. Gone fishing. Sayonara, suckers."

Am I too old to be a juvenile delinquent? Maybe, but the heck with it. If it's like this tomorrow, I ain't coming in. I'll dial in from home.